Arkham Asylum: I Don't Get Paid Enough for This Crap
by The Batlord
Summary: Several recordings of sessions from the patients of Arkham Asylum. If you've ever been curious about the political beliefs of Scarecrow or Poison Ivy, or the sexual predilections of Killer Croc, then this is the story for you. Current sessions: Joker, Scarecrow, Two-Face, Killer Croc, Poison Ivy, the Riddler, Jane Doe, Firefly, Mad Hatter, Calender Man, Harley Quinn, and Deadpool.
1. Joker, Scarecrow, Two-Face, Croc, Ivy

Inspired by the patient recordings from the Arkham games, but otherwise completely unrelated.

Disclaimer: Don't own Batman, but I do claim ownership of myself and everything contained therein (lungs, intestines, testicles, etc).

* * *

 **Arkham Asylum: I Don't Get Paid Enough for This Crap**

* * *

The following are recordings of actual sessions conducted in Arkham Asylum by Doctor John Fitzgerald. They have not been altered in any way.

Patient #183940

Name: Unknown (alias: The Joker)

Dr. Fitzgerald: And how are you doing today, Joker?

*The Joker shrugs*

Dr. Fitzgerald: Would you... care to expound upon that?

*The Joker shrugs*

Dr. Fitzgerald: Not that I'm complaining, but our sessions usually open with an inappropriate joke or the occasional brandishing of homemade weapons. Would you care to tell me what has brought on this uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm?

*The Joker sighs*

The Joker: Fitzy, do you know what day it is?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Wednesday?

The Joker: No, no, not the day of the _week_ , I mean the date.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Ah. Well, that is the reason why I scheduled our session early this week. I am well aware that it is April Fool's Day. Ordinarily we would take extra security precautions, but since those never seem to work anyway, I thought I might as well use this opportunity to gauge your mental state.

The Joker: Oh, you needn't bother. I intend to do nothing more than sit in my cell and sulk for the rest of the day.

Dr. Fitzgerald: _Really_? I'm not entirely sure I believe that. I would think that this would be your... "busiest" day of the year.

The Joker: Ugh. A joke is only ever funny when you aren't expecting it. Going on a comedy spree on April Fool's Day would be like a ghost jumping out of a closet to frighten some deflowered high school trollop on Halloween. April Fool's is my day off.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I suppose that makes... sense. But that doesn't explain why you seem to be acting, well so... subdued. Again, not that I'm complaining, but this is rather unprecedented.

The Joker: For the next...

*The Joker looks at the wall-mounted clock*

The Joker: ... Thirteen hours, my entire reason for existing is gone. Kaput... um... see? I can't even come up with anymore whimsical ways to say that my life is now pointless. Do you have any Thorazine? I'd actually like some anti-psychotics to take the edge off.

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's fantastic! I'll see what I can do. Um... what are the chances that this change of attitude will continue after today?

The Joker: Bupkis. Please don't take it personally if I end up stabbing you in the throat with a pen tomorrow. It's just business. You understand.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'll... keep that in mind. Well, while we're "on a roll" so to speak, would you like to discuss your childhood?

The Joker: Urge for fun... _rising_.

* * *

Patient #437551

Name: Jonathan Crane (alias: Scarecrow)

Dr. Fitzgerald: Good evening, Jonathan. It's nice to meet you.

Jonathan: Hm. I'm sure, but in the future, I would prefer if you were to address me as Dr. Crane.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I don't mean to be rude, Jonathan, but it says here that your medical license has been revoked.

Jonathan: Regardless, I did not go through four years of undergraduate study, four years of medical school, and four years of residency, just to be referred to as "Jonathan".

Dr. Fitzgerald: Of course. Whatever makes you comfortable, Dr. Crane.

Dr. Crane: Hmph. "Comfortable". An interesting choice of word.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Uh... Dr. Cra-

Dr. Crane: Do you have any idea how much the sea level will rise due to global warming by the year 2100?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Um... no, I'm sorry, I don't.

Dr. Crane: Twenty-three feet.

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's very interesting.

Dr. Crane: "Interesting"? I should say it was rather alarming. _Terrifying_ even. Wouldn't you?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I suppose I haven't given it much thought, but it certainly seems to be cause for concern.

Dr. Crane: "Cause for concern"? Such a massive rise in sea level will mean the utter abandonment of many of the world's coastal cities, and since most trade is conducted from these cities, this would result in world economic collapse. Such an unprecedented catastrophe should be leaving you a gibbering fool, hiding under your desk.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sorry, but I really can't say the thought causes me any visceral terror, though perhaps it should.

Dr. Crane: "Perhaps it should"?! You fool! Your world teeters on the brink of destruction, and all you can muster is indifferent "concern"?!

Dr. Fitzgerald: I didn't mean to upset you, Dr. Crane. Interesting. I was under the impression that you were not afraid of anything.

Dr. Crane: "Afraid"? Me? I am the Scarecrow! Master of Fear! He who commands the very darkness that hides in the recesses of all men's souls! I do not fear global warming. In fact, I relish the chance to observe the horror that shall be inflicted on those feeble-minded cretins such as you who would ignore the signs, even as their world is consumed by the waters of oblivion.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Even though the asylum sits on an island?

Dr. Crane: I wish to go back to my cell now.

* * *

Patient #294738

Name: Waylon Jones (alias: Killer Croc)

Dr. Fitzgerald: It's good to see you again, Waylon.

Waylon: Yeah, whatever, meat.

*Dr. Fitzgerald sighs*

Dr. Fitzgerald: I believe I have mentioned multiple times that I would prefer for you to call me by my name. Referring to me as "meat" will do nothing to assist your treatment.

Waylon: Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we, doc?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I should certainly hope not. Now, during our last discussion, we attempted to explore your anti-social tendencies. You seemed resistant at first, but I believe that we may have been making some headway. Would you like to continue our previous conversion?

Waylon: Well, why the heck not? Sounds like a blast, meat. _Oops_. I mean, _Dr. Fitzgerald_.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Um... splendid! Well, do you mind if I ask you why you prefer to live in a sewer? If you really don't like human company, I'm sure there are less... inhospitable places to take up residence.

Waylon: What's wrong with a sewer? Once you get over the smell and the shit, it's like home. Besides, Gotham's cold when you don't have central heating. You'd be surprised how warm it is in the sewers. I guess it's all the methane or something.

Dr. Fitzgerald: You could always move to a warmer climate. I'm sure a change of scenery, especially one away from... certain individuals, would be beneficial.

Waylon: Tried it once. Didn't work out.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Really? Where did you go?

Waylon: Florida.

Dr. Fitzgerald: You know, I spent my college years at the University of Florida.

Waylon: Well, good for you. I spent my time in a fucking swamp.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I suppose that's... not surprising-

Waylon: Cause I'm a freak show crocodile man?

Dr. Fitzgerald: No, no, of course not! It's just that... it fits your... modus operandi... and...

Waylon: Uh huh.

*Dr. Fitzgerald clears his throat*

Dr. Fitzgerald: Well, why exactly didn't it "work out"?

Waylon: The gators were mean to me.

Dr. Fitzgerald: They were... mean to you?

Waylon: I figured, ya know, since I was kinda, sorta, one o' them... they'd be accepting. But they were just assholes. They'd either swim away or try to eat me. So I ate 'em back.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sure that must have been... difficult. I know you already harbor significant resentment towards humans for their treatment of you.

Waylon: No kidding. But there was one gator who didn't treat me like a monster...

Dr. Fizgerald: Oh, I'm happy to hear that you made a... friend.

Waylond: Her name was Gckdgt, and she was the most the most beautiful creature I ever saw.

Dr. Fizgerald: Uh...

Waylon: Her scales were as shiny as... something really shiny, and the way her belly looked when she death rolled a White-tailed deer...

*Waylon trails off into silence*

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sure she was quite... breathtaking.

Waylon: I knew I couldn't stay though. I just didn't belong there. And I still had to kill the Batman, you know?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Of... yeah...

Wayon: But that night we spent together... I'll always remember it. Waking up pressed against her snout was the happiest moment of my life.

*Waylon seems to look off into the distance and sigh wistfully*

Dr. Fitzferald: ... You fucked an alligator?!

Waylon: Hey! Don't say it like that! It was beautiful. I don't expect some small-minded _normie_ to be able to understand our connection.

Dr. Fitzgerald: But... you fucked an alligator! Is that even anatomically possible?!

Waylon: I eat people on a semi-regular basis, but a little bit of consensual bestiality is what shocks you?

Dr. Fitzgerald: But, you... fair enough? Well, look at the time! I think our session's just about over. It's been a great talk and I look forward to the next time we can chat but I think I'll be on vacation so you'll probably have a new doctor don't worry they'll be great it'll be great everything'll be great GUARDS! I want out now!

Waylon: But... we were making progress.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Lots of progress. GUARDS!

* * *

Patient #455196

Name: Harvey Dent (alias: Two-Face)

Harvey: I want my coin back.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sorry, but I don't believe that would be conducive to your recovery.

Harvey: Where's my coin?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Please, Harvey, you don't need the coin.

Harvey: Give me my coin.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Harvey, the coin is just a coping mechanism you use to justify your actions by taking responsibility away from you and giving it to "fate".

Harvey: I will gut you like a fish if you don't give me my fucking coin.

Dr. Fitzgerald: That is not appropriate. I am a patient man, but I will not tolerate threats.

Harvey: SHOW ME THE MONEEEEEYYYYYY!

Dr. Fitzgerald: ... Exactly how long have you been waiting to say that?

Harvey: Three days.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Most amusing.

Harvey: Seriously though. Gimme my god damn coin.

* * *

Patient #836103

Name: Pamela Isley (alias: Poison Ivy)

Pamela: Did you know the Nazis were environmentalists?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I... excuse me?

Pamela: They believed in a doctrine known as "Blood and Soil", which celebrated the mystical bond between people and the land. Granted, they were more concerned with the German people living an agrarian lifestyle, in the same manner as their ancestors, than they were with preserving nature in its purest state, but it was still a superior ideology to the current, corporate, capitalist, planet-destroying policies of self-declared "morally superior" Western nations, which _rape_ the natural world without any more regard for its beauty than the SS felt for the Untermensch. Say what you want about them, but the Nazis had some truly revolutionary ideas.

Dr. Fitzgerald: How can you say that Nazi Germany was committed to conservation when they industrialized their country to such a massive extent?

*Pamela scowls*

Pamela: I can't say that I approve of Der Fuhrer compromising his principles at the expense of the environment, but I understand that his actions were guided by necessity.

The Allied nations' antagonism, and their usurious Versailles Treaty, made it impossible for Germany to live up to its environmentalist potential. Who knows what Der Fuhrer might have accomplished without their interference?

Dr. Fitzgerald: But surely you can't support their racialist views? They murdered over six million Jews believing in their nonsense.

*Pamela shrugs*

Pamela: The death camps may not have been my preferred choice, but what could they do? They were losing the war, and had to purge however many Jews as they could in the time they had left.

*Dr. Fitzgerald is quiet for several seconds*

Dr. Fitzgerald: But... it was not necessary to kill anyone.

Pamela: Do you realize that 48% of billionaires in the United States, and 8% of US corporate boardroom members, are Jewish, while making up only 2% of the population? Consider their disproportionate domination of banking, Hollywood, and politics - especially Israel's influence on American foreign policy in the Middle East.

As uncomfortable as it may be for some people to admit, the Jews and their Zionist Occupied Governments are especially responsible for the West's policies, and by extension, its treatment of the environment. The Holocaust may have been... unpleasant, but can you truly say that it was unnecessary?

Dr. Fitzgerald: ... Yes. Yes I can.

Pamela: Oh, don't be such a prude.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with this conversation.

Pamela: Hmph. You sound just like Harley.

Dr. Fitzgerald: In this case, I'll take that as a compliment.

Pamela: You know, you're pretty judgmental towards your patients for a psychiatrist. Where did you say you went to school?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sorry if I'm coming across as unprofessional, but they didn't exactly cover dealing with Nazi sympathizers at the University of Florida.

Pamela: The _University_ of _Florida_? They'll let anybody into Arkham won't they.

*Pamela crosses her legs and smiles mischievously*

Pamela: You know, he may not have been handsome in the traditional sense, but there's still something about Adolf Hitler that intrigues me. Maybe it's the mustache.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I think we're done here for today. Guards?

*Pamela winks at Dr. Fitzgerald*

Pamela: Sieg Heil, Herr doctor.

*After Pamela is taken away, Dr. Fitzgerald sits alone in the interview room*

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sure the Jews mean us no harm...

* * *

 **The End... Or Is It?**

 **Nah, It's the End.**

* * *

I would like to dedicate this fic to myself, for maintaining a consistent standard of awesomeness. Without me, none of this would have been possible.


	2. Riddler, Jane Doe, Firefly, Mad Hatter

Was just gonna be a one-shot, but I'm far too much of a genius.

Disclaimer: Is this shit even illegal? Have any of us actually done any legal research on fanfiction? Someone shoot me a PM or something.

* * *

 **Arkham Asylum: I Don't Get Paid Enough for This Crap**

 **El Parto Dos**

* * *

Patient #280187

Name: Edward Nygma (alias: The Riddler)

Dr. Fitzgerald: Good morning, Edward.

Edward: What's good about it? Aside from the fact that you get to converse with an intellect such as mine, of course.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Well, aside from the obvious shining sun and chirping birds, I found twenty dollars in my pants pocket.

Edward: Very droll, doctor. Surely you must be concerned with my most recent puzzle? I don't mean to brag, but I really have outdone myself this time. I don't even mind that the Batman captured me before failing to solve it.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Oh, that. The hostages have already been freed without any casualties.

Edward: ... What?

Dr. Fitzgerald: As I said, the hostages have been-

Edward: I'm not deaf, you blithering fool! How could the Batman have solved my riddle already? Even _I_ couldn't have solved it within a single day.

Dr. Fitzgerald: It wasn't solved. You-

Edward: What?! If it wasn't solved, then how could Batman have found the hostages?

Dr. Fitzgerald: It wasn't the Batman who rescued them.

Edward: ... Excuse me?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I said it wasn't the Batman. It was-

Edward: I heard you the first time, idiot! Don't tell me it was that simpleton, Nightwing. He couldn't solve a Rubik's cube with a hammer and super glue. Red Robin? No. He may not be a _complete_ vegetable, but there's no way. There's simply _no way_. Tell me it wasn't the boy. Damien or whatever? If I was outsmarted by a snot-nosed little brat like him, I'll eat my hat.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm trying to tell you, it wasn't Batman or any of his... whatever they are. It was the police.

Edward: ... You're lying.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm promise you that I am not.

Edward: But... no. No! No no no no no no! They wouldn't even know what end of the hammer to swing! How could Gordon-... oh no. Tell me it wasn't Bullock. Even if it was, tell me it wasn't. I don't know if I... I just couldn't... what reason would I have to go on?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sorry, but nobody solved your riddle.

Edward: ... But you just said!

Dr. Fitzgerald: No, I said the police freed the hostages.

Edward: How could they find them if they didn't-... oh, I see what's going on. You're trying to trick me into accidentally revealing their location. I suppose Batman put you up to this. Well played doctor. _Almost_.

Dr. Fitzgerald: No, I'm quite serious. The police found them in the basement of an abandoned bar about a block from the the Bowery.

Edward: ... How?!

Dr. Fitzgerald: Well, apparently you dropped a matchbook with the bar's logo on it at the crime scene of your first clue. You know, you really should quit smoking, Edward.

Edward: A matchbook?!

Dr. Fitzgerald: Yes. After that it wasn't too difficult for them to work backwards and find the rest of your clues and disarm the traps.

Edward: Was... was it at least Batman who found them all?

Dr. Fitzgerald: No, I'm sorry.

Edward: Then... Gordon?

Dr. Fitzgerald: You already told me you didn't want me to tell you if it was a... certain person.

Edward: I think I'm going to be sick.

* * *

Patient #038926

Name: Unknown (alias: Jane Doe)

Dr. Fitzgerald: Good morning.

Jane Doe: Good morning.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I am pleased to meet you, and very much looking forward to our first session.

Jane Doe: I am pleased to meet you, and very much looking forward to our first session.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm glad to hear that.

Jane Doe: I'm glad to hear that.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Um... yes. Well, according to your file, you seem to lack an identity of your own, and take on the personality and mannerisms of an individual through careful observation, before "becoming" that person, after which you... kill them. Would you say that that is accurate?

Jane Doe: Um... yes. Well, according to your file, you seem to lack an identity of your own, and take on the personality and mannerisms of an individual through careful observation, before "becoming" that person, after which you... kill them. Would you say that that is accurate?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Are you... repeating back to me everything that I say?

Jane Doe: Are you... repeating back to me everything that I say?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Jane, I don't believe that continuing in this manner will be particularly helpful in this session.

Jane Doe: Jane, I don't believe that continuing in this manner will be particularly helpful in this session.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Jane, stop that.

Jane Doe: Jane, stop that.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Stop copying me!

Jane Doe: Stop copying me!

Dr. Fitzgerald: Guards!

Jane Doe: Guards!

* * *

Patient #483027

Name: Garfield Lynns (alias: Firefly)

Dr. Fitzgerald: Good evening, Garfield.

Garfield: How's it going, doc?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Quite well, thank you.

Garfield: That's great.

Dr. Fitzgerald: And you, Garfield?

Garfield: Real good, real good.

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's what I've been hearing. According to your file, you claim that you've finally gotten over your pyromania. I must admit, I'm not used to my patients making such progress, so it is quite refreshing to know that one of them is hopefully on their way to recovery.

Garfield: Yeah, I've been channeling all that stuff into writing poems.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Poems! How delightful. You know, when I was a boy, I always dreamed of becoming a poet. Sadly, I just never had the talent. So, what kind of poetry _moves your soul_ , Garfield?

Garfield: Well, I think I've been getting pretty good at haikus. Wanna hear one?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I would be honored, Garfield.

Garfield: Ahem.

 _Fire, fire, burning bright_

 _In the forest of the night_

 _Matches are the shit_

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's... that's very good. Very... impressive. Well, it's good that you're channeling your urges in a less destructive manner.

Garfield: I got more.

Dr. Fitzgerald: ... Alright.

Garfield: Great! I'm really proud of this next one.

 _Stench of burning hair_

 _The sizzling of human skin_

 _I have a boner_

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's... wow. Just... wow.

Garfield: Hey, thanks. I came up with another one last night, too. I think it's my best one yet.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Why the hell not.

Garfield: Okay... here's goes.

 _Batman, the police,_

 _The doctors, and my parents_

 _All you pigs will burn_

Dr. Fitzgerald: ... Well! If that's all you got then I think our time is just about done.

Garfield: Nah, I got tons more.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'll give you The Riddler's lighter if you stop.

Garfield: Deal.

* * *

Patient #772089

Name: Jervis Tetch (alias: Mad Hatter)

Dr. Fitzgerald: Good evening, Jervis.

Jervis: Why, hel _lo_ , my good doctor. Marvelous day, isn't it?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I would say so, yes. You seem to be in good spirits.

Jervis: Well, of course I am! It's tea time.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Well, I'll be sure to tell the orderlies to get you some when we're done.

Jervis: Oh, nonsense. We'll have our tea, right here, right now.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that won't be possible, Jervis.

Jervis: Oh, nothing is impossible, my good man. Now, would you prefer the Darjeeling, or the Earl Grey? Personally, I have always adored Earl Grey - love the dash of citrus! - but I promise I will think nothing less of you for picking the Darjeeling. Perfectly good tea.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Um... but, we don't have any tea. Of any kind.

*Jervis looks surprised*

Jervis: Have you gone mad? Why, it's right here in front of us.

*Jervis gestures to the empty table between them*

Dr. Fitzgerald: Perhaps we should adjust your medication.

Jervis: Oh, pish posh. I've been spitting that out for weeks. *whisper* _It makes me gassy._ *whisper*

Dr. Fitzgerald: Oh god.

Jervis: Well, since you insist on being indecisive, I'll just choose for the both of us. You don't mind Earl Grey do you?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Uh... no... no, of course not. That would be... wonderful.

Jervis: Splendid! Now, we mustn't waste anymore time. The water has only just started to boil, and you mustn't leave it on the stove for too long, or it starts to lose air bubbles. Air bubbles help to bring out the taste in the tea, you know.

Dr. Fitzgerald: No... I didn't know that.

Jervis: You learn something new everyday, my friend. Now, here _you_ are...

*Jervis sets an invisible cup in front of Dr. Fitzgerald, drops in an invisible tea bag, and proceeds to poor invisible water into the invisible cup with the invisible tea kettle*

Dr. Fitzgerald: Um... thank you, Jervis.

*Jervis repeats the invisible process for himself*

Jervis: Oh, not at all, doctor. Only too happy to do it. You know, as much as I love the look of a nice, fine China tea pot, it's really the wrong thing to do to just leave your tea sitting in there.

Dr. Fitzgerald: ... Really.

Jervis: Oh, quite so. Tea loses its taste very quickly, so you absolutely must brew it by the cup and drink it immediately.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Fascinating.

*Dr. Fitzgerald sighs and tentatively reaches for where Jervis set down the invisible cup*

Jervis: What _are_ you doing? You must let the tea steep for two to four minutes before you can drink it, you silly little man. I like my tea to be flavorful, so I let it go for four, but it's barely been thirty seconds. You might as well just drink hot water.

Dr. Fitzgerald: How lucky I am to have you teach me these things.

Jervis: Oh, think nothing of it. Always happy to impart knowledge of the finer things in life.

*Dr. Fitzgerald and Jervis stare at each other for about half a minute*

Dr. Fitzgerald: So... how bout them Cowboys?

Jervis: Can't stand them. With their spitting, and their dirty boots tracking filth all over your nice clean carpet... and their _whiskey_. Just a foul lot all around.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Right... look do you wanna talk about psychological stuff or anything, cause I have a golf game in about an hour.

*Jervis looks mildly offended*

Jervis: Doctor, it is _tea time_. Mental analysis can wait for ten minutes. But if you really must be in such a hurry, then I suppose the tea has steeped for long enough.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Fantastic.

*Dr. Fitzgerald picks up his "cup"*

Jervis: Wouldn't you like some milk or sugar?

*Dr. Fitzgerald stares at Jervis*

Jervis: Ah, a "manly man", I see. Like your tea black, do you? I must admit, without milk or sugar, tea just tastes a touch to bitter for my liking. It's always "One lump, or two?", but...

*Jervis adopts a mischievous expression*

Jervis: I've always preferred _three_! Ohohohoho!

*Dr. Fitzgerald jerks his hand forward, as if to splash the invisible tea into Jervis' face*

Jervis: Oh god, it burns! It burns! Guards! Get me away from this madman!

* * *

 **Maybe This Is the End, Maybe Not. Fuck if I Know.**

* * *

Review, don't, I don't give a shit. You probably smell like feet anyway.


	3. Calender Man, Harley Quinn, Deadpool

God I'm good. Chapter 3 like a motherfucker. All naysayers can grab their ankles and get ready for the ride of their lives.

Disclaimer: You can't spell "disclaimer" without "lame". I mean, you have to take the "i" out, but either way, it's still pronounced the same. You certainly can't _say_ "disclaimer" without "lame" in any case. So there.

Burzum fucking rules. Varg Vikernes, less so.

* * *

 **Arkham Asylum: I Don't Get Paid Enough for This Crap**

 **第三章**

 **(According to Google Translate, that's "Chapter Three" in an unspecified form of Chinese.)**

* * *

Patient #644805

Name: Julian Day (alias: Calender Man)

Dr. Fitzgerald: So, Julian, how are you doing today?

Julian: Do you know where your towel is, doctor?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sorry?

Julian: I asked if you know where your towel is.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Uh... in my bathroom, I assume.

Julian: That's not good, doctor. How do you expect to be a hoopy frood without your towel within reach at all times?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I... what?

Julian: A towel is just about the most massively useful thing any interstellar hitchhiker can carry. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow, heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you — daft as a brush, but very very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (a non-hitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, washcloth, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet-weather gear, space suit, etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have "lost." What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

Hence, a phrase which has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in "Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is."

*Dr. Fitzgerald stares at Julian for several moments*

Dr. Fitzgerald: What on God's green Earth are you talking about?!

Julian: Do you know what tomorrow is, doctor?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Uh... Monday?

Julian: Yes, but I meant the date.

Dr. Fitzgerald: ... May 25?

Julian: Yes.

Dr. Fitzgerald: And?

Julian: May 25 is Towel Day.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I... I see. And... the... the space... stuff?

Julian: Do you not know of Douglas Adams, doctor?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I... wait, the author of _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_?

Julian: Yes.

Dr. Fitzgerald: What does he have to do anything?

Julian: Towel Day is held in Douglass Adams' honor every year on May 25, to commemorate the anniversary of his death - though he in fact passed away on the 11th.

Dr. Fitzgerald: I... see. And, all of this... towel business, is related to his books?

Julian: Indeed.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Well... I suppose this conversation now makes about as much sense as it can be expected to.

Julian: I tried requesting a towel from the orderlies, but they seem to be under the impression that I might use it for some nefarious purpose. Of course, their concern is understandable, considering the myriad uses a towel would make available to me. Still... most unfortunate.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Ah, the hell with it. I'll get you a towel. I want to see what happens.

Julian: I am grateful. For a strag, you are a most hoopy frood, doctor.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Fantastic. Now if you don't mind, I have an appointment with Eccentrica Gallumbits, the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon VI, and I don't want to be late.

* * *

Patient #516308

Name: Harleen Quinzel (alias: Harley Quinn)

Harley: Good mornin', Dr. Fitzgerald.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Good morning, Harley.

Harley: I must say, ye're lookin' rather... down in tha dumps. Last time we talked, ya really weren't doin' so well, but today? Whoo, boy!

Dr. Fitzgerald: You know, I try, and I try, and I try to better the lives of my patients, but no matter what I do, all I receive for my efforts is scorn, mockery, and unflattering messages left in the men's room. How the Joker manages to get out of his cell so frequently, for the sole purpose of scrawling obscene images onto the stalls involving myself and the Penguin that I don't care to describe, is beyond me. And don't tell me it wasn't him! Cause I know it was! I know it!

Harley: Please, doc, calm ya self. Nuthin' wuz evah solved by bein' irrational.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Of course. I'm sorry, Harley. It's just so frustrating.

Harley: I'm sure. I know ya try ya best, an' don't think it ain't helpin' any.

Dr. Fitzgerald: You don't have to say that just to make feel better.

Harley: No, really. I mean, Two-Face is still nuttiah than squirrel poop, but just yestahday, I saw him choose between Salisbury steak an' meatloaf in tha cafeteria, _without flippin' his coin_.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Hadn't the Batman recently given him a concussion?

Harley: Doc, if concussions could cure mental illness, then this place would be outta business.

Dr. Fitzgerald: So... you really think I'm helping?

Harley: Of course. Don't be so hard on ya self. On a related note, I know all tha stress ya been undah has been causin' tension with tha missus. How's that goin'?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Not so well. I tried doing what you suggested.

Harley: Tha trip to Hawaii?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Yes. But she just blew me off, saying "I'm just so busy at work, there's no way I can take time off."

Harley: She turned down Hawaii?! Man, that's bad. I'm thinkin' it might be beyond time for some couples counselin'.

Dr. Fitzgerald: You think that would help?

Harley: Of course! No relationship is beyond help. No mattah how much he... well, anyway, if ya like, I can pencil youse two in for next Satuhday? I'll have ta check wit' my assistant, but I think I could prob'ly pencil ya both in for around... 3:15?

Dr. Fitzgerald: That would be wonderful! I'll have to talk to her about it, but with any luck, I think I can bring her around.

Harley: Whatevah ya do, doc, don't give up. There's nuthin' in this world more important than love. Trust me.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Thank you, Harley. Your help really means a lot to me.

Harley: Don't mention it. Now, I'm sorry, but it looks like our time is up. I got anutha appointment in five minutes.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Of course. I understand.

Harley: Well, till next time, doc. Guards? I think it's time ta take Dr. Fitzgerald back ta his cell.

Dr. Fitzgerald: Wait, what?

* * *

Patient #187666

Name: Wade Wilson (alias: Deadpool, the Merc with the Mouth, the Regeneratin' Degenerate, etc)

Dr. Fitzgerald: Good morning, Wade. How are you feeling?

Wade: Like a million rubles. Why am I here?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Well, according to your file, you have been remanded to our custody pending a seventy-two hour mental health evaluation. Apparently you were found intoxicated, wandering through traffic, singing AC/DC's "Big Balls", while covered in your own feces.

Wade: Hey! I was not drunk.

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's not what the police report says.

Wade: The cop just thought his breathalyzer was broken.

Dr. Fitzgerald: ... Yes, well, in any case, that is why you are here, Wade.

Wade: No, yeah, I get that. Happens all the time. But why am I _here_?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm sorry, but I don't understand the question.

*Wade rolls his eyes*

Wade: I mean, I'm a Marvel character. This is DC. What the fuck is going on with this shit?

Dr. Fitzgerald: Uh... I'm still not following you.

Wade: Look, Mr. College Educated Psychiatrist Dude with a Degree In Being a Fucktard, I'm in the wrong comic book universe.

Dr. Fitzgerald: You... believe yourself to be a comic book character?

Wade: No dur.

Dr. Fitzgerald: And... you're in the wrong universe?

Wade: By Jorge, I think he's got it!

Dr. Fitzgerald: And I am a comic book character as well?

*Wade snorts*

Wade: You? Nah, you're just some generic doctor cliche in a bad fanfiction the author came up with on the fly cause he was too lazy to come up with a real character. You don't even have a first name.

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's absurd. Of course I have a first name.

Wade: Yeah? So what is it, Smarty McDumbass?

Dr. Fitzgerald: It's... Look, Mr. Wilson, we're here for _you_. So, if we could just discuss these "ideas" you have?

Wade: Why am I even talking to you? You didn't even exist a week ago.

*Wade turns to the screen*

Wade: Hey, you! Asshole!

Dr. Fitzgerald: Mr. Wilson, who are you talking to?

Wade: Hey! I'm talkin' to you, _Batlord_!

The Batlord: WTF? You can't do that. Stick to the script.

Wade: Or what? You'll write me out of continuity? And what kind of asshat publishes Batman fanfiction with a screen name like "The Batlord"? That's like showing up to a concert wearing a band shirt of the band you're going to see. Loser.

The Batlord: It's not a Batman reference! It's-

Wade: Yeah, yeah, it's a music reference. No one gives a shit, cause no one knows what band you're talking about. It just makes you look like a douche.

The Batlord: Dude, fuck you.

Dr. Fitzgerald: What on Earth?! Mr. Wilson, who is this person?

Wade: Butt out, baldy!

Dr. Fitzgerald: I'm not bald.

Wade: Yeah, check the dome, chrome.

Dr. Fitzgerald: That's nonsen-... holy hell, what happened to my hair?!

The Batlord: Hey, quit fucking with my character! He's not supposed to have physical attributes. This is a dialogue-centric fic.

Wade: "Fic"? You fucking nerd! It's 3:16 in the morning, and you're lying down on your mattress with no bed frame like some crackhead, typing away on your shitty Chromebook _your mom_ bought you, writing "fics"? Here's an idea, why don't you go cry yourself to sleep like a twelve-year-old girl with a zit, and think about why you haven't gotten laid in-

The Batlord: Hey, hey, hey! Not cool, dude. Why you gotta be an asshole?

Wade: Cause I will NOT be written into god damn _fanfiction_ by some tool who hasn't even read _Cable & Deadpool_. There's no way you can write me for shit. You're not Joe Kelly. You're not even Daniel Way. You're Rob. Fucking. Liefeld.

The Batlord: Yeah, well, your daughter's ugly.

Wade: Oh, it's on like Donkey Kong's dick in your ass! I know you've read _Deadpool Kills the Marvel Universe_.

The Batlord: Yeah, so?

Wade: Remember the end - SPOILER! - when I go through the portal into the real world, and I'm about to kill everyone at Marvel Comics?

The Batlord: ...

Wade: I suggest you make peace with your gods and go fuck your dog goodbye, cause you've got about ten minutes of not having a life left.

The Batlord: You're bluffing. That shit was just a comic book.

Wade: Maybe. You willing to take that chance, fatboy?

Dr. Fitzgerald: I demand to know-

Wade/The Batlord: SHUT UP!

Wade: So what's it gonna be? Close this tab on your browser and forget about publishing this steaming pile? Or say "Hello" to your gastrointestinal tract?

The Batlord: ...

Wade: Hey! Hey! I see that! Don't you dare hit Save! Don't you-

* * *

 **Fuck Deadpool**

 **The End**

* * *

Deadpool: Well, I warned him. I was gonna make sure this never saw the light of day, but I've decided to publish it anyway, as a warning to any of you self-polluting neckbeards stupid enough to fuck with me. Think of me as Anne Rice, and just say **"** **NO!"** to writing Deadpool fanfiction. Or I'll find you.


End file.
